


Give John a chance

by letitmclennon



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Birthday Presents, Birthday boy Paul, F/M, Happy birthday Paul, Jealous Paul McCartney, Light Angst, M/M, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:28:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19264993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letitmclennon/pseuds/letitmclennon
Summary: Paul thinks that John has forgotten his birthday![Happy birthday Paul!]





	Give John a chance

 

Little Heather was playing on the floor with Martha, while Linda rested on the couch.

They had come back from their wonderful holiday in Corfu the day before, and for Paul's birthday the two girls arranged a little party just for the three of them. Or four, if they considered the child growing up in his wife's belly.

Paul's first child.

God, he was more than excited. He was about to go crazy.

He was twenty-seven years old now and was starting a new phase of his life. Things were serious now.

The time of fooling and passing from one woman to another around was over. Now the people who meant something to him were all in that house.

Almost.

After all, the new phase of his life inevitably meant also the end of the previous one, with all its aftermath. And in fact it was so. If on the one hand he was bursting with the happiness of becoming a father, on the other he felt he was falling into a dark abyss from which he saw no way out.

It was the end of the Beatles, the end of those magical and crazy years, really crazy, but Paul would never change them for anything else in the world.

It was the end of their friendship, not only their partnership, four boys from Liverpool who had found themselves as if by magic, as if their paths had really crossed thanks to destiny or fate or how the fuck they wanted to call.

It was the end of John and everything they shared. Friendship, love, whatever it was. He didn’t know himself, he wasn't sure if and when friendship had ended, and when love had started.

He only knew it was complicated. He was all together, John. He always aroused an absurd mix of emotions in Paul which he tried to put in order. However, realizing that he couldn’t succeed, he finally decided to take him as he was. He cared only to have John and that John would feel the same for him, whatever they were sharing.

And now instead, John cared nothing about him anymore. It was a thought that depressed him to death. He almost liked to bask in his conviction, self pity over the fact that John didn’t want him anymore. At least Paul had a reason to feel bad and justify the bullshit he was saying and doing.

Linda tried to comfort him as she could, assuring him that it wasn’t absolutely so, that John still cared about him, even though he was leaving Paul. After all, he was always his best friend, he could never give up on him forever.

But yes, Paul was sure. That John he had to deal with lately was a very different person from the one he knew. Yes, he still had those traits Paul loved, those flaws that always made him _his John_ , and yet he had changed. As if they were all mixed up and sorted in a different way. And now, John was no longer comfortable there, where he had always belonged. In  Paul's arms. He was slipping through his fingers and Paul couldn't do anything to stop him.

He had tried, but it was inevitable. And Paul was tired, so tired that he didn't even want to try. What  was the point in banging his head again, risking to get hurt, very seriously this time? He was already hurt, deep down. He had a family to look after. And if that family couldn't save him totally, it could at least give him the strength to survive.

John cared nothing about him, it was so, he had to accept it. And he was sadly aware of it now, after John had gone with _that one_ in Montreal to record a new song. Without him.

It had to go this way, even for John a new phase of his life had started and not included Paul.

The sooner he accepted it, the better.  For everyone's quiet life.

Of course, Paul could understand all this, John's desire to do something different, something new. But... fuck!

He could at least fucking call him for his fucking birthday! He had also come back to London early, hoping to see him. Or at least to hear his voice.

Fuck John!

He wasn’t asking too much. How much effort did it take to take the fucking phone, call him and tell him, "Hey, Paul, everything’s all right here. Anyway, happy birthday, man."

Not even that.

Paul snorted. Linda tried to tell him that there was still time for John to call him, but by now his thought made him angrier and Paul couldn't even sit next to his wife and watch the fucking movie. 

John, you fucking bastard. Always his fault.

He got up to go to the kitchen to find something he could drown his sorrows into. He deserved it, damn it. He looked for and found the strongest whisky he had, poured a generous amount and swallowed it.

The liquor burned down his throat and his chest. It seemed to him to go on fire, and for an instant he forgot any problem, too overwhelmed by the feeling of being almost... happy. But then the thoughts came back immediately and without hesitation, he drank another sip to not give them even time to regain possession of him.

"Fuck, yes!"

He passed his hand over his face, before letting it slam against the table.

God, he wanted to scream, he wanted to go to John and yell everything he thought of him, how he was making him feel alone, excluded, humiliated... Abandoned.

But then, by magic (because all that had concerned John in his life happened by magic, he was certain), someone knocked the door.

And stupidly Paul still hoped it would be him, while his footsteps were leading  him quickly to open the door. Stupidly he hoped to see John in front of him and stupidly it seemed to Paul to really see him.

“John?”

“Hey Macca.”

Fuck, it couldn't be an hallucination, could it? Was it the damn whisky's fault? Since when had he been hearing voices?

Yet it seemed to be the real John, the same glasses, the hair that many times Paul held between his fingers, and his lips stretched out in a faint smile, lips that even more often met Paul’s.

Paul shuddered as a series of images poured violently into his mind, clutching his heart, and decided to step forward and approach John, half-closing the door behind him.

"Are you... Is that really you?"

"’Course it’s me. And don’t look at me with that face, I’m not a fucking ghost."

John laughed amused and this seemed to confirm to Paul that it was really him. And immediately Paul felt the rage boiling in him, more than it was appropriate. Why the fuck was he laughing, when Paul had been anxious all day, waiting like an idiot for his visit or his phone call, before being assaulted by disappointment and sadness?

"Oh, well, aren’t you sort of a ghost recently? Weren't you fucking somewhere with your sweet half?"

John made that sneer that Paul knew very well, that sneer that meant he had looked good inside Paul and figured everything out, as always.

"Someone is jealous, I see."

"I’m not fucking jealous, John. I-"

But he didn’t have time to continue as the door behind him barely creaked, a sign that his wife had just reached them. Paul didn’t need to turn around, to know that it was her, and kept his gaze on John, fearing he could disappear if he distracted for a moment.

"John, what a pleasure."

John greeted her with a smile and waving his hand, before his eyes fell down, on her swollen belly. Paul noticed it and also noticed how his expression became somewhat melancholy.

"Will you come in? There's a little cake left."

"No, thank you. I have to go. I’ve just come to give our birthday boy my gift.”

"Oh, and what is it?" the woman asked, curious, approaching Paul and taking him by his arm.

John stood a moment in silence, looking first at Linda and then Paul.

"That song, the one I recorded a few days ago with Yoko. _Give peace a chance_ , you know?"

"Yeah." Paul sighed, holding himself up before he could add _sadly_.

"You see, Paul, I recorded it with our name."

Paul blinked. He expected to hear anything, unless this. Really.

"What?"

"Yeah, Lennon/McCartney. It was like that, wasn't it ? _First_.”

John looked at him, attentive, and perhaps even a little uncomfortable, feeling how Paul was carefully studying him with his big doe eyes, looking for something, perhaps a signal that John was just teasing him, devilishly.

"Why?"

"To thank you for helping me with that song, you know, _The ballad of_...”

"You didn't have to do that." Paul stopped him, "It was a pleasure for me. You didn't owe me anything. I mean it."

"So do I. And I didn't give you credits because I had to, but because I cared."

"And this is a very kind gesture, isn’t it, Paul?" Linda intervened, stroking his arm and looking at him softly, "I knew you'd come in the end."

She seemed so much a mother who encouraged her child to make peace with his best friend after arguing over a stupid spite.

Paul nodded vaguely, staring at John with a serious look and also rather puzzled. What the fuck was John doing?

"Linda, honey, go back to Heather, I'll be there in a minute, will you?"

"Yes, of course, dear. Goodnight, John. Say hello to Yoko.”

"Yes, thank you. Goodnight."

The door was closed again, and only then Paul started to talk again.

"So, John, are you really here only to tell me this? Because I have a hard time believing it, you know.”

"Hey, where did your jealousy ended now?"

“John!”

John sighed, “You’re so silly, Paul. You know, I just got free from some stuff I had to do about that song we recorded in Montreal, and I thought, 'I really have to go and visit that Macca asshole, or he's going to start thinking I forgot about him and his birthday.''

Paul frowned, while a slight sense of guilt got him, slowly calming his anger and jealousy.

"Is that so, Paul?"

"No, I don't-"

John burst out laughing, "Fuck, Paul, I could read it right in your face when you opened the door."

"And so? Plus, did you really have to climb over the gate? Couldn't you ring like all normal people do? Or maybe you wanted to break some other window?"

John chuckled to himself, blinking in an absolutely innocent and, _dammit!,_ adorable way, "No no, none of that. I’m a good little boy now. And I couldn’t risk to have you refuse me. Don’t you think?”

"It’s not sure I would."

"However, where would be the fun then? You know I'd climb any mountain to reach my princess."

Paul blushed lightly, surprised, and thanked that it was already dark so John couldn't notice it. Though he doubted strongly that John would need light to notice it. John knew him so thoroughly that he probably had already guessed that he blushed only by the way Paul held his breath.

Paul decided that the best thing to do was going on as if John hadn't said anything.

"Then was that the real gift?"

"No, that was to keep mommy good." John exclaimed, with a vague gesture of his hand.

Paul twisted his mouth, looking at him reproachfully, almost telling him to be careful about what he was saying, but John smiled, with that smile that always melted Paul's heart, and Paul found himself smiling him back.

"Then what would be my birthday present? I deserve a good one, you know.”

John looked at him nervously, lowering his eyes only for an instant. Paul frowned and made to open his mouth and ask him _what happens_ , when John lifted his head, grabbed him with a hand on his shirt and drew him to himself, finally kissing him.

A chaste, too short kiss on the lips. It ended before Paul could realize it.

Before he could feel John.

"It would be this." John sighed on Paul's still open mouth.

Reluctantly Paul realized that John had already moved away from him.

What? Was that _all_?

And without even realizing it, he stretched out his hands to grab John's shirt on his hips and bring him back against him.

He didn’t think much of his family, of Linda who was inside his house and could see them at any time, he didn’t think of the child that was growing inside her, his child.

He didn't think of any of them when he kissed John again, after all it was _his_ fucking birthday and he had every right to take what he wanted.

And he wanted John.

So he kissed him, and kissed him as if that was the last day of his life, as if they were the only two people in the world.

And God, this was what he needed: having John this way, feeling John kissing him back as if they still were two lads in Hamburg, too horny to keep their hands and mouths in their place.

This was worth more than any word that John could tell him, any _I love you_ or _I’ll forever_ _be with you_ or _In spite of_ _everything I’ll never forget you_.

_This_ was John, his John.

With his heart jumping of joy, he felt John's hands cover his cheeks and as a response he tightened his fingers on John's hips, holding him close to him. Then he pulled away from him, and leaned against John's forehead, his eyes still closed to try to impress deeply into his mind and heart that moment.

"This was it, John. _This_!"

John smiled as he let their noses touch, while his hand gave the sweetest caress to Paul's long hair.

"Happy Birthday, Paulie. A hundred of these days."

Paul nodded, whispering an imperceptible _thanks_. And then John really slipped away from his fingers, and then he turned to leave, and Paul followed him with his eyes, sighing sadly.

"And if you really have to get drunk because of me, at least change whiskey."

John climbed up the gate and looked at him one last time, smiling and passing his tongue on his lips.

"That is a real crap."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and happy birthday to Paul! <3 77 years today, ahhh!! *^*  
> Ok, I wanted to post something and so, I translated this fic I wrote last year for Paul's bday.   
> I searched infos about that period, June 1969. Paul returned to London from Corfu the day before his birthday, while John in early June was in Canada to record that song, and on June 23 he was in Wales with Julian, so I hope he could have done a trip to London around June 18. : 3  
> About the reference to John that climbs over the gate... I've been searching a lot about when it could have actually happened, but some sources say January '69, other '70... It's not clear. From the photos we have of John climbing over the gate I think it could be 1969, but you never know. Anyway in the story I assumed it was 1969. ;)  
> Thank you to everyone who has read the story!! <3 Hope you like it. :D  
> Ciao  
> Chiara


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